


painted in their own blood

by darlingargents



Series: Season of Kink Bingo 2020 [5]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bloodplay, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, F/F, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Painful Sex, Pet Names, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25887112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: Addy has cramps. Trisha helps out.
Relationships: Patrick Hockstetter/Eddie Kaspbrak
Series: Season of Kink Bingo 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773196
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	painted in their own blood

**Author's Note:**

> For the Season of Kink bingo square **Bloodplay**. Set sometime vaguely teen-years. Thank you to bastardly_deeds for this absolutely _wonderful_ idea that did not leave me alone until I wrote it, and thank you to scorpiod for the beta! Title from The History of Red by Linda Hogan.

When Trisha climbs through Addy’s window, Addy doesn’t even see her at first, just hears it, the window sliding open and clacking shut. It’s loud. Not loud enough to be heard by Mommy, though. She’s checked — she doesn’t want Mommy to know about Trisha’s visits.

Addy is curled on her side, a hot water bottle slowly cooling down against her abdomen, internally begging for the painkillers to kick in. She keeps her face buried in her pillow, blocking out the light that always makes it worse, and she feels Trisha running her fingers through her hair, stroking it out of her face. She ignores the touch until Trisha pokes her hard in the side and she rolls onto her back, wincing. Every part of her hurts so much, her thighs and chest and her fucking head, but the pain is all coming out of her uterus. That’s the throbbing centre, bleeding agony into the rest of her.

“Cramps?” Trisha doesn’t sound the least bit sympathetic. Addy blinks her eyes open, and sees Trisha looking just like she always does. She rolls her eyes.

“Yes. So no, I don’t want to fuck.” She tries to roll back onto her stomach, and Trisha stops her, rolling her back over.

“You know, orgasms can help with the pain.”

Addy winces. The thought of anything going near her cunt right now is the absolute opposite of appealing. “Fuck, no. Your pinky finger would be too much right now.”

Trisha drops her jacket and shoes on the floor, and undoes her jeans, dropping them as well. She climbs up on the bed and spreads Addy’s legs. She’s in a nightgown, so Trisha just needs to flip it up to see her underwear. With a giant, deeply unsexy pad. Addy tosses the hot water bottle aside with a sigh. Clearly Trisha isn’t going away yet.

“Fine,” she says, knowing it’s a terrible idea even as she says it. “Just your mouth, okay? I’m not kidding about how sensitive it is.”

“Sure, babe,” Trisha says, and drops an absent kiss on the inside of her knee. It makes Addy shiver, all the way down to her cunt. “Do you have a towel somewhere?”

Right. That’s a concern. Addy points to her closet, and Trisha grabs the darkest-coloured towel she has and spreads it on the bed. She lifts Addy’s ass with both hands, manhandling her like it’s nothing, and that sends another, strong shiver to Addy’s cunt. It’s almost enough to distract from the pain.

Maybe Trisha is onto something with this. In the rare moments without pain, she tends to be hornier on her period, just with no way of doing anything about it.

Slowly, almost romantically, Trisha pulls Addy’s underwear down to her ankles and off, tossing it aside. She spreads Addy’s thighs again and settles between her legs, and Addy takes the initiative to pull off her nightgown and toss it aside, leaving her naked. Propped up, she can see the bloody mess of her cunt, the way it’s dripping down onto the towel. Trisha runs her pointer finger down the crease of Addy’s thigh, right where the blood starts, and licks the blood off her finger absently. Addy almost kicks her in the head with shock.

“What the fuck,” she says, half horrified and half painfully turned on. Her blood is in Trisha’s mouth, smeared on her lip. Addy wants to kiss it off, and she’s never seen anything more awful.

“I’ll get my hands dirty for you, babe,” Trisha says with a wink, and ducks her head. Addy closes her eyes and leans back. This, at least, is familiar, and Trisha was right that it feels good for the pain. Trisha actually seems to be listening, too, keeping her fingers out of Addy’s hole when normally she’d have a couple in right now.

Trisha sucks on her clit, swirls her tongue around, presses in and rubs with her tongue. Addy’s toes curl into the blankets and she sighs, her hands settling in Trisha’s hair. It’s always softer than it looks.

Trisha’s nails scrape down the inside of Addy’s thighs and she groans, thrusting shallowly into Trisha’s face. Trisha laughs into her cunt and pulls away to say, “You should ride my face, kitten.”

The pet name makes Addy’s cunt throb almost painfully. She adjusts her legs, giving herself more leverage to lift her hips, rocking into Trisha’s face. Her hips start to speed up, almost against her will — she’s close already, desperately chasing her orgasm against Trisha’s face. Trisha lets her take it.

Her hips stutter when she hits the edge, her legs going limp. Trisha props up her hips when her legs give out, licking her through her orgasm, long and slow. She comes for ages, until she’s wrung out and groaning, her clenching cunt already hurting less.

“You were right,” she says, closing her eyes as she leans back. “It does feel better.”

“Yeah?” Addy opens her eyes to see Trisha’s face, covered in blood. She winces back a little, and Trisha grins, showing the red smeared across her teeth.

“Aww, kitten, don’t be scared. It’s your blood.”

“Still gross,” Addy mutters. Trisha adjusts herself, still between Addy’s legs. Addy frowns. “Look, that was fun, but I still feel like shit. I’m not up for multiple rounds.”

“Sure you are,” Trisha says, and reaches forward. Before Addy can do anything, Trisha’s pointer finger is sliding inside her.

Addy winces. Her walls are unbelievably sensitive, and it hurts like a motherfucker to feel Trisha there, clenching around it. “ _ Fuck _ — Trisha, stop.”

“Hm.” Trisha pulls her finger out, and then back in. Faster, in and out. And then adds a second. “Don’t think so.”

“It hurts,” Addy says, and immediately hates herself for it, for sounding like a petulant child. “I just — Trisha, I can’t. Stop.”

A third finger forces its way inside, and Addy starts to panic, her heart pounding in her chest. She tries to sit up, and falls back, hit by the pain and exhaustion. Trisha almost never goes above two, and the couple of times she’s gone for three, Addy has ended up hurting.

Trisha doesn’t seem like she’s going to stop.

She spreads her fingers inside, forcing Addy open wider, and it hurts. She’s starting to cry silently, tears sliding down her cheeks. The slick wet sounds of her blood and Trisha’s hands are hideously loud in her quiet room.

“Please don’t,” Addy whispers when she feels Trisha pull most of the way out and add her pinky. “Please, please, it hurts—”

Trisha pushes in all four fingers, and Addy bites back a scream. It feels like she’s being torn open. If she glances down she can see a puddle of blood under her on the bed, and she’s never been afraid of blood before, but the sight sends a wave of nausea through her. There’s blood smeared up Trisha’s arm, blood on her face, and that intense look of concentration as she pumps her four fingers in and out.

The immediate burn starts to fade as Trisha keeps moving, but Addy’s cramps are coming back, knife-sharp and agonizing. She can feel herself contracting painfully onto Trisha’s hand, and she’s sure it only makes it better for Trisha. It hurts so much that she’s afraid she might actually throw up. Tears are running down her cheeks as she holds her breath, trying to hold back the pain and the sobbing. And Trisha isn’t stopping.

Trisha pulls out again and presses a casual kiss to the inside of Addy’s knee, leaving a smear of blood. “Get ready, kitten,” she says, and this time the pet name just makes Addy want to stab her in the eye.

A nail scratches against the rim of Addy’s cunt, drowned out by the rest of the pain, and Trisha’s thumb is forced inside her. It goes on and on and then it stops, and through the pain and violation, all Addy can think, in panicked, dizzying fragments, is  _ she has her whole hand in me. All of it is inside me, she’s inside me, she’s gonna turn me inside out— _

It takes a supreme act of will for Addy to not lean over and throw up right then. She tries to breathe, clenches her fist so hard it hurts, tries not to clench down on Trisha’s hand. She just wants to get through this without inflicting any more of this pain on herself. A thought pops into her head that almost makes her smile:  _ at least her hands aren’t very big. _

“So,” Trisha says, casually, like her entire fucking hand isn’t inside Addy’s cunt like she’s a fucking puppet, like Addy isn’t crying in front of her, “are you gonna come?”

Addy laughs through the tears, and then stops immediately, because that makes it hurt more. “Fuck no. I’m not like you.” That might be a bit of a lie. It scares her a little, how similar they can be. “I don’t get off on hurting.” An actual lie. She likes it when Trisha bites her and pins her down and bruises her. This kind of pain, though, is not what she wants. She doesn’t like feeling like she has no control.

Trisha knows that’s a lie as well as she does, but seems to get that Addy isn’t going to come from this. She ducks down and sucks Addy’s clit into her mouth again, and for a few moments, Addy can forget how much it hurts, the tears in her eyes and the sticky blood drying all over her body. If Trisha is good at anything, it’s getting her off. She doesn’t move her hand, just sucks and licks at Addy’s clit until her clenching starts to actually feel good and she comes, wrung-out and weak, but still an orgasm. Not much of one. Usually the second is better, and she feels almost angrier about that than anything else. Like this is some cruel god’s idea of a joke, cheating her out of a decent orgasm.

It’s possible that she’s going too far. She doesn’t care. She’s pissed.

Trisha pulls out her hand, slowly, and the amount of blood that comes out with it is enough to make Addy panic again. Trisha notices her expression as she wipes her hand on the towel, and rolls her eyes. “Cheer up. Maybe you won’t need as many pads tomorrow.”

If Addy could, she’d be billing Trisha for them for the rest of this period. Maybe for the rest of the year. It’s the least she fucking deserves.

Trisha disappears briefly to wash her hands and then comes back, still spotted with blood, and kisses Addy’s cheek. Addy glares at her until she laughs and ducks out the window with a casual wave, and when she’s finally gone, Addy stands on shaky legs.

There’s so much blood that she barely knows where to start. In the bathroom, she wets a washcloth and wipes down each leg and then in between, rinsing it out over and over, watching the rusty blood and the occasional clump run down the drain. It takes a while, but eventually she feels relatively clean. Her cunt hurts. It’s hurt after sex before, mostly on the occasions when Trisha made her come five or six times in a row, but never like this. It’s a raw, stretched-out feeling that flares with every movement of her legs. Sitting in class tomorrow will be tortuous. Maybe she’ll be able to spring for a bag of frozen peas, but she’s not hopeful.

Addy rinses out the washcloth for the last time, double and triple-checks it for bloodstains, and tosses it in a laundry basket. Back in her room, the bloodsoaked towel is a disaster that she doesn’t have the energy to deal with. She balls it up and shoves it under her bed; it’s for tomorrow, when maybe she hurts less.

Miracle of miracles: it didn’t bleed through to her bedsheets. She won’t have to explain that to Mommy. Now that she thinks about it, she should’ve been more concerned; the only thing that could make this worse is having to spend all of tomorrow in the emergency room.

She pulls her nightgown back on and climbs back into bed, and realizes, quite suddenly, that her cramps are gone. The edges of them are there, warning of a return, but for now she feels perfectly content to stretch out and sleep.

At least Trisha is good for something.


End file.
